


for you, a kingdom

by zipadeea



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Bigotry & Prejudice, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, I mean, It's a lot of fluff, Kid Fic, Literary References & Allusions, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Post-Canon, The Little Prince - Freeform, but maybe not?, damen is such a dad, it could be true, kind of, laurent doesn't deal with it well, like don't argue with me he would be, until he does, what if auguste had a kid?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-11-08 15:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20837888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zipadeea/pseuds/zipadeea
Summary: “I did best you, didn’t I? I demand a boon.”“And what shall you have of me?” Damen asked, voice suddenly soft.“Delpha, at least,” she said with a hum. Damen’s eyes grew sad at the words, though his smile remained. “Perhaps a pony, as well.”“For you, my dear, a kingdom.”***Laurent thought he knew everything about his beloved brother. But even the dead have secrets.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, it's been awhile since I read these books, so my apologies if anything seems too incorrect. I just really like the characters and had this idea, so I ran with it. Hope you enjoy my take on Lamen finding out about Auguste's secret child.

“Can we do this outside?” Adeline finally asked, the warm rays of sunshine positively mocking her as they streamed in the window. 

“I do not know. Can you?” 

“May we do this outside?” Adeline asked hopefully. 

Mistress Bisset glowered. “You have done ten stitches in all this time. Ten vast, messy stitches. I am not in the habit of rewarding poor behavior, Your Highness.” 

Adeline wondered, for the umpteenth time, how it was possible to make ‘Your Highness’ sound like such a horrible insult. She bit back a sigh. 

“Yes, Mistress.” 

Mistress Bisset rose from her seat before Adeline and closed the curtains. 

000 

Adeline was not always called ‘Your Highness’. For six happy years, she was simply Selene’s daughter. She was just another child running around the village of Edessa. 

Then, the sickness hit. And Adeline was an orphan. 

She had been in the local orphanage for over a year when messengers charged through the town, announcing the imminent arrival of Damianos-Exalted and King Laurent. 

Most of Edessa had assumed the kings meant to stop at the local inn as they passed through Mellos, on their way to Ios. 

Instead, they stopped at the orphanage, and asked quite specifically after a girl aged eight years, named Adeline. A letter written in Maman’s careful, lovely hand was in their possession. 

000 

“What was your mother’s name?” King Laurent had asked, voice sharp. The weather was much too hot for the blue jacket he wore, laced all the way up his neck, but the king showed no discomfort. His eyes were bright and beautiful and hard, like the sea glass Maman had given Adeline once on her birthday. His hair was just as golden and shiny as everyone always said. His face was prettier than a statue. 

Adeline had shrunk back in her chair and swallowed, thickly. “Selene,” she had whispered. 

King Laurent’s eyebrows had quirked a bit. It was his only reaction to the name. “And your family name?” 

Adeline had frowned. Her eyes felt hot, and she’d wished Matron would come back into the room to be with her. “I don’t--,” 

“Family names aren’t used commonly in Akielos, especially in the country. I’d imagine everyone knew you as Adeline, daughter of Selene, yes?” Damianos-Exalted had interrupted, voice kind. He was an enormous man, but a handsome one, too, dark and muscular and very much the opposite of King Laurent, yet just as beautiful. 

Adeline had nodded wordlessly to the Exalted. King Laurent had turned and glared at his husband. 

“You cannot just give her the answers we wish to hear,” he’d said quickly in Veretian. “We are trying to prove she is who she says. What good would it do anyone to leave with the wrong child--,” 

“You are scaring her,” Damianos had replied calmly. “And, as you said, she is a child. Just look at her, Laurent, she could practically be your--,” 

“You trust too easily, you always have. This could all be a trick--,” 

“What trick?” Adeline had asked in Veretian. Both kings had turned back to her immediately. “Maman taught me Veretian, too.” she said, in answer to their rather baffled stares. 

Then, Damianos-Exalted had smiled, and knelt down before her. “Adeline, is there any chance you have something of your mother’s with you?” 

Adeline had bitten her lip and looked at her lap. Maman had said never to trust anyone else with it, never to let anyone else even see it. It was to be their special secret, forever and always. And, as long as she wore it close to her heart, Maman and Papa would always be with her, no matter where she went. 

But these were the kings. Her kings. 

She would probably be punished if she did not obey. 

Still biting her lip, Adeline had pulled her white peplos away from her chest and dragged out the long pendant she always wore around her neck. 

King Laurent had gone even more pale than he already was at the sight of her locket. He stepped forward beside Damianos-Exalted and gently took the silver pendant from her hands. 

“Maman said Papa gave it to her before he left for the war. Maman said Papa told her to wear it close to her heart, and he’d always be with her. Then he—he didn’t come home, and Maman realized I was coming, and Vere doesn’t like bastards at all so I wouldn’t be safe, so Maman ran and ran and ran until I wouldn’t wait anymore so she stopped in Edessa. Then Maman got sick, so she gave me the necklace so she and Papa would always be with me, and--,” 

Adeline had not realized she’d been crying until Damianos-Exalted reached up a large, gentle hand to wipe away the tears. She had swallowed thickly. 

“Do I have to go away?” She’d asked finally, looking up at King Laurent’s now impassive face. 

“Yes,” He had said, voice short. “You do.” 

000 

After that day, Adeline was called ‘Your Highness’. She was called a princess. She lived in a castle at Marlas. She had guards and lessons with awful Mistress Bisset and rules and manners to follow that she never knew existed. She had a closet filled to the brim with big awful Veretian dresses covered in ribbons and lace and ties. 

She had a nurse named Ione who kept her to a very strict sleep schedule, an uncle who didn’t much like to look at her, let alone talk to her, and Damen. 

Damen was absolutely the only good thing about being a princess. 

“How were your lessons today?” Damen asked as he walked alongside her. She was making her way slowly across the top of the high garden wall; he held one of her hands lightly to keep her from falling. 

“Miserable,” Adeline spat in Akielon. “Mistress wouldn’t let me go outside while we were sewing. Why must I learn to sew anyway? It is so tedious. And she never lets me read the books I want, and she never lets me run and play, and it’s all in Veretian, all the writing and the reading and the manners and—do not grin at me, it isn’t funny!” 

For Damen was grinning up at her, the whiteness of his teeth glinting in the sun. “I’m sorry, Adeline. I do not mean to diminish your suffering.” He held out his arms, and Adeline leaped into them. Damen caught her easily, and spun them both around in circles until she nearly felt sick, giggling all the while. 

Adeline decided then she may be able to forgive him. 

“Perhaps a day off from lessons is in order. Would you like to come and watch me train the soldiers tomorrow morning? We could take the horses out in the afternoon, Laurent may join us for that.” 

Adeline threw her arms around Damen and decided that yes, he was forgiven. 

He really was the only good thing about being a princess. 

000 

That night, there was a feast. There were many feasts, for visiting nobles and royal birthday celebrations and holidays and anniversaries of war. Adeline was unsure why this feast was specifically taking place. What she did know, was she was seated between Damen and his friend, Kairos Nikandros, Damen had let her have a sip of his wine, and there were candied figs. 

Feasts were maybe sometimes the next best thing about being a princess. 

“You shall have to visit us in Ios soon, Princess,” Kairos Nikandros said, warm smile on his face, “My daughters are eager to meet you.” 

“Can we, Damen?” Adeline asked eagerly, turning to the man as she jumped in her seat. Then, Mistress Bisset’s familiar reprimands echoed through her head, and she winced. “I mean, may we, Exalted?” 

Damen rested his hand on her golden curls and grinned. “Yes, I think we can,” he said with a wink. Adeline beamed. 

Then, Ione approached from behind and ruined all the fun, as she so often did. “Time for bed, Your Highness.” Adeline pouted, but didn’t argue. She turned to Kairos Nikandros, who was leaving tomorrow. She realized she may not see him again for a long while, and it made her quite sad because he was very kind. 

Ah. Perhaps that was why they had the feast. 

“Goodbye, Princess,” Nikandros stood and bowed, grabbed her hand for a kiss. Adeline curtsied like Mistress taught her, before rushing forward and wrapping her arms around the man’s waist. 

“Goodbye,” she mumbled into Nikandros’ chiton. Mistress would not approve. But Mistress was not at the feast, so Adeline did not rightly care. The man patted her head a few times and hugged her back before she pulled away. Then he smiled down at her, his brown eyes very fond. 

Adeline turned then to Damen, ready to curtsy again, but Damen just pulled her close and kissed her head. “May Morpheus grant you sweet dreams, Adeline.” 

Matron used to say that, too, before she blew out the candles in the ward for the night. “And you, Damen.” He smiled widely at the familiar response. 

Then Adeline let Ione usher her forward, toward the door on the side of the hall. She bowed slightly to King Laurent on Damen’s left. The king looked pointedly at her forehead and nodded his head slightly. 

“What a lovely child,” Adeline heard Nikandros remark as Ione pushed her gently out the door. 

“I suppose,” said King Laurent. 

000 

The next morning when Ione woke Adeline, the sun was not yet up through her window. 

“Ione, it is still dark outside!” Adeline muttered into her pillows. The nurse just smiled knowingly. 

“Yes, well I have been informed by the Exalted himself that a certain little girl would like to accompany him to the training grounds instead of going to lessons. But if she loves her lessons so dearly--,” 

“I am!” Adeline yelped, scrambling out of bed so quickly and haphazardly that Ione laughed at her. “No lessons today!” 

Ione smiled again and led her over to the wardrobe. 

“I want to wear a chiton.” Ione frowned. 

“I do not think Mistress--,” 

“But I don’t have any lessons,” Adeline said swiftly, eyes wide, lip slightly pouted. 

Ione chuckled. “Yes, and with eyes like that it’s no wonder the Exalted let you skip them today. You’re very good at getting what you wish, Princess,” Ione said, as she pulled a familiar old chiton from the wardrobe. 

Adeline beamed. 

Today was going to be a good day. 

000 

As it turned out, watching soldiers train was slightly boring. 

Jord sat with her in the stands of the arena, explaining the many drills and exercises being run. Damen stood at the front, shouting orders, adjusting people’s stances and the like. 

The fun came midmorning, when the sword fighting finally began. 

“Look, Jord, look at them go!” Adeline said, as she practically vibrated in her seat. The loud clashes of metal, the swords glinting in the sunlight, the sweat dripping down the men’s faces, it was all so _exciting_. 

Not even Jord could hold back his grin. 

“Do you think Damen will fight today? I hope he does, everyone says he’s the best.” 

“If you ask,” Jord said with a chuckle, “I am sure he will.” 

So, Adeline asked. Damen immediately obliged. 

He disarmed his opponent in under a minute. Adeline’s whoops and cheers were so loud all the soldiers were laughing with glee. 

Mistress would definitely not approve. The thought just made Adeline cheer louder. 

“Will you teach me?” Adeline asked breathlessly when Damen came up in the stands to say hello. 

He looked at her thoughtfully, held tilted, and met eyes with Jord before looking back. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt anything,” Damen replied with a shrug of his shoulder. “Wooden swords to begin, though.” 

Adeline was already halfway to the armory to gather said wooden swords before he could finish the statement. 

Damen met her in the middle of the cleared arena, bemused grin on his face. The grin turned sharp when Adeline threw one of the wooden swords toward his head. He caught it with a swipe of his arm, before landing in the ready position. 

“Lesson first, or fight first, then critique?” 

Adeline spread her feet wide and balanced, and held the wooden pommel in both hands. Damen’s eyes lit up. 

“Alright then, sweetheart,” Damen said, before attacking. 

Adeline parried it with ease. 

000 

She knew Damen was humoring her, knew that if he had actually tried, she would have been down and out in probably ten seconds. 

That didn’t mean the sword fight wasn’t the most fun she’d had in weeks. She blocked and parried and swiped and countered, circling with Damen slowly through the arena. The soldiers were sitting in the stands, hollering in delight at the spectacle. 

“You are much better at this than I expected,” Damen admitted, stepping back from Adeline’s last vicious parry. 

Adeline didn’t respond. Instead she found her opening and stabbed the wooden sword straight toward Damen’s gut. 

He dropped immediately. 

“Damen,” she said with a laugh, stepping forward. “Get up.” 

He didn’t respond. 

“Damen?” The sword was sticking up, near the left side of his stomach, straight in the air like it had skewered him. Her heart started beating very quickly. She ran and knelt at his side. His eyes were closed. 

_ “Damen--,” _

“HA!” he yelped, before jumping to his feet and scooping her in his arms. He’d been holding the sword between his arm and side, she suddenly realized. It was all just a trick. 

“That was mean!” She moaned, burying her face in his neck as he laughed. “I thought I hurt you!” 

Damen just twirled them both in a circle, his laughter mingling with the soldiers still surrounding them. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I couldn’t resist.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You have a natural talent, Adeline. Have you ever practiced before?” 

Adeline just shrugged, still cross from the trick. “Just with sticks, with boys at the orphanage. I always won. They didn’t like it.” 

Damen laughed again. “We’ll have to start working you with the squires, I think. Talent like that shouldn’t be wasted. Anyone who can best me in a fight should be trained.” 

Adeline finally raised her head, elated at the words. “I did best you, didn’t I? I demand a boon.” 

“And what shall you have of me?” Damen asked, voice suddenly soft. Adeline realized he still hadn’t put her down. 

“Delpha, at least,” she said with a hum. Damen’s eyes grew sad at the words, though his smile remained. “Perhaps a pony, as well.” 

“For you, my dear, a kingdom.” He tapped her on the nose fondly. “Though I think the pony can be arranged a bit sooner.” 

Adeline looked up from Damen’s shoulder to see King Laurent at the top of the stands. When she caught him staring, he glared before abruptly walking away. 

000 

“You spoil her,” Adeline heard a voice say quietly as she approached the king’s quarters. Damen had told her to fetch a cloak before they went on their afternoon ride. She’d been running to meet him when the voices stopped her in her tracks. 

She heard Damen sigh. “She’s eight years old, and she’s lived a hard life. She deserves to be spoiled.” 

“You’re being ridiculous.” 

“And you’re being cruel.” Damen said sharply. “She’s your family, Laurent, the last piece of your brother--,” 

“Don’t you dare.” King Laurent responded darkly. “You of all people don’t get to mention him.” 

“Laurent--,” 

“Is that what this is?” the king continued, his voice like ice, “Some kind of penance for murdering Auguste? Be kind to his daughter to calm your conscience?” 

Damen huffed. “I enjoy Adeline’s company. I find her to be a kind, sweet and engaging child, as do many others. You would know that if you made any effort at all.” 

“Her teacher finds her uncooperative and unintelligent.” 

“Her teacher is a witch who is punishing her for the fact of her birth. Just like you. It makes me sick.” 

There was a pounding of footsteps, then suddenly Damen was storming through the doors of the library. When he spotted Adeline before him in the hallway, he stopped in his tracks. 

“I--um,” Adeline was mortified when she realized her eyes were wet. She could see King Laurent through the still open door of the library, his mouth open in shock. “I’m very tired, so I think—we don’t have to go riding today. I don’t want to. It’s--,” Then Adeline ran away, because she could feel the sob building in her throat, and she was confused and sad and angry and the only people she really wanted to speak to were dead. 

“Adeline!” Damen shouted desperately behind her. 

She didn’t look back. 

000 

Adeline found the tallest tree she could and climbed and climbed and climbed until she was taller even than the castle beside her. She’d done this often right after Maman died. It was a good way to make sure no one could bother her thoughts. 

Adeline remained in the tree long after dark, the shouts of her name still sporadically echoing throughout the courtyard. She had seen the guard sent out earlier to search, north, south, east and west, the servants all scrambling to uncover the nooks and crannies of Marlas to find her. 

Nobody looked up though. Adeline was intelligent enough to know that, at least. 

It was pitch black and cold as winter in Edessa by the time Adeline was ready to come down from the tree, her thoughts all finally in order. She went slowly and carefully, testing each step before she took it, until finally jumping down into the courtyard. 

She walked, undisturbed, though the corridors of the castle, all the way to her quarters. When she reached her rooms, Ione hugged her long and hard. 

“Where on earth have you been, child?” 

Adeline hummed. “Just thinking. I’m sorry I worried you.” Ione kissed the top of her head before running for the nearest guardsmen, to inform the kings the princess was back. 

Then, Ione washed her face and dressed her for bed like it was any other night. Damen ran through the door as Ione was tucking her in the blankets. 

“Adeline,” he breathed, before falling to his knees beside the bed, “Where have you been?” His hand reached up to swipe the hair away from her face. 

“Did you really kill my papa?” she asked instead, and Damen stiffened, before suddenly deflating. 

“Yes,” He croaked. “I did.” 

Adeline bit her lip. “Are you sorry that you killed him?” 

Damen looked at her, questioning. “Yes, I am.” 

“Do you think you would have done it if you knew him?” 

“No, I don’t--Adeline, why--?” 

“I forgive you, then. I forgive you for killing him.” 

Damen looked at the canopy of the bed, as though to stave off his tears, before finally meeting her eyes again. “You don’t have to, sweetheart.” 

Adeline thought her lip might bleed from the pressure. “But I want to. I don’t like to hate; it hurts my heart. And you—you're the only good thing about all of this. I can’t--I don’t know--,” Adeline suddenly sobbed. 

“Oh, honey,” Damen said softly, before finally sitting on the bed and pulling her into his arms. “Shhh, it’s alright. It’s alright, Adeline.” 

And Damen held her tight and brushed her hair and whispered nonsense about all the good in the world until Adeline finally fell asleep. 

000 

The next morning when Adeline woke, Damen was gone. 

Ione frowned as she gave Adeline the note the Exalted left for her. 

There were border conflicts at Ravenal, she read. Damen was very terribly sorry, but he had to leave immediately and resolve them. Laurent remained at Marlas, awaiting the arrival of representatives from Arles, should she need anything. Damen would be gone a week, two at most. 

They would speak when he returned. 

_ All my love, _

_ Damen _

“Oh,” Adeline breathed softly as she read the letter, gut roiling at just the thought of Damen being so far away. “Alright then.” 

Ione hugged her close before escorting her to her lessons. 

000 

Mistress Bisset made her do lines as punishment for her disappearing act the day before. 

For six hours straight. 

Mistress slapped her hands with a switch every time she thought Adeline was writing too slowly. 

It was, undoubtedly, the worst day yet. 

Adeline went out to the garden when her lesson finally finished. Usually, it was the time she and Damen spent on their walks, discussing their days. But with Damen gone, the time was empty. 

Adeline sat on a bench and stared off in the distance. Eventually, Jord finally came and sat down beside her. 

“Princess?” he asked softly. Adeline just turned and cried silently into his shoulder. 

Jord held her tightly, without ever saying a word. 

Jord was the third best thing about being a princess. 

000 

Ione rinsed the switch marks with cool water that night and kissed them softly. 

“May Morpheus grant you sweet dreams, Princess,” Ione said as she tucked Adeline into bed. 

“And you, Ione,” Adeline whispered quietly. Ione kissed her forehead before she left the room. 

Ione was probably tied with Jord. 

000 

The next morning, when Adeline woke, her throat was exceptionally sore. Her eyes were heavy and everything felt fuzzy and-- 

Oh. She was probably ill. 

Ione fussed over her, tucked her in more tightly and promised to have tea and soup delivered from the kitchens. Then, of course, Mistress Bisset burst through the doors. 

“Unacceptable,” Mistress said primly, dragging Adeline upright by the arm. “You may be able to fool the silly nurse, but I am not so susceptible. Get dressed, you have much work to make up on for the days you missed.” 

“Mistress,” Adeline croaked. 

Mistress Bisset sighed dramatically. “What on earth will King Laurent say when I speak to him of your behavior?” 

Adeline closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Ione, please help me get dressed.” 

“But, Your Highness--,” 

“I am fine.” 

Mistress Bisset grinned like a shark. 

000 

The numbers and letters all swirled together through Adeline’s lessons. Each mistake came with a flick of the switch. By the end of the lessons, there was no part of her hand that wasn’t red. 

“Very poor performance today, Your Highness. His Majesty will certainly not be pleased.” Mistress Bisset proclaimed. 

Adeline was just glad she didn’t vomit all over the library. 

Adeline was not sure whether it was the fever or her own exhaustion that prompted her to reply: “I care more for a horses’ flatulence than for what King Laurent thinks of me. And I certainly do not care what you think of me.” 

Mistress’s eyes grew hard. They looked almost black. “You would do well to learn some respect for your betters, girl.” 

But Maman had told her once, in one of those wry lessons she was always giving: “People who demand your respect are not looking for your respect, ma cherie. They are looking for your obedience. And as a result, they do not deserve it.” 

“Respect or obedience?” Adeline had asked, and Maman had smiled and tapped her nose. “Both. I have never been good at doing what silly people tell me I should.” Maman’s grin had turned mischievous. “If I was, you would not exist, and what a very sad life that would be for me.” 

So, Adeline listened to her mother and left the room with her head held high. 

She skipped the garden, and went straight back to bed. 

000 

When Adeline woke, the sun was just setting out her window, turning the sky red and orange and purple. 

Adeline promptly leaned over and vomited on the floor; some of it still got on the pretty sheets. 

“No,” Adeline moaned, “Ione?” she croaked. But her nurse didn’t appear. Adeline rolled to the other side of the bed and tried to stand up. She had to clean the floor. She had to clean the sheets. Mistress would be so mad and King Laurent would hate her more than he already did and-- 

Adeline immediately fell to the floor when she attempted standing. 

“No,” she moaned again. She tried to hoist herself up before falling back to the cold stones in a heap. She curled up in a ball and shivered, tears trailing down her cheeks. 

What had she done? Why was the world being so mean? Why couldn’t everything just go back to the way it was before, why did Maman have to die, why--? 

“Adeline?” A quiet voice asked as the door suddenly propped open. Adeline couldn’t hold back her whimper at the bright light. 

“What are you--?” King Laurent suddenly cursed, before rushing to her side. He immediately rested a hand on her forehead and cursed again. 

“Call for Paschal,” He shouted back to the guards at the door. “Send him to our rooms,” He added, as he took in Adeline’s soiled sheets. Adeline moaned again, and the king ran for the nearby chaise and grabbed a spare blanket, which he wrapped tightly around her. 

“I’m going to lift you now,” he said softly, hand back on her forehead. “Try to tell me if you’re going to vomit.” He slipped his arms under her shoulder and knees before rising slowly. Adeline immediately snapped her eyes shut and pushed her face into the king’s collarbone. 

“Hurts,” she whispered, unsure if she was describing her stomach, her head, or her heart at that moment. They all hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” the king said quietly, walking them toward the door. The light behind Adeline’s eyelids turned orange, and she buried her head even deeper into King Laurent‘s shoulder. 

He didn’t say anything, but the hands around Adeline gripped more tightly. 

The king took the corridor at a brisk pace, and did his best to keep from jostling her. But still, as they rounded what Adeline thought to be the final corner to the kings’ quarters, she called for a stop. The king complied immediately. 

Adeline’s stomach roiled menacingly, and her eyes flew open as she turned over in the king’s arms and retched all over the floor. The vomit landed with a sickening splat before them; some of it even stained the king’s pretty shoes. 

She promptly burst into tears. 

“I’m sorry!” Adeline wailed, “I’ll clean it up, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--,” 

“Hush, Adeline, you are not in trouble. These things happen, it is not your fault,” A gentle hand pressed her head back into the dark safety of the king’s neck, and she just cried harder. 

They both continued on their journey. She heard the king mutter quietly once, probably to a servant, about the mess in the other corridor, but even the conversation did not stop his pace, until they finally reached the door. 

“Your Majesty, what--,” 

“Is Paschal here yet?” 

“He’s on his way. What has happened to--,” 

“Where’s her nurse? Ione, where is she?” 

“I don't know, Majesty.” 

“Well, find out and have someone go fetch her. Jord as well, she trusts Jord...” 

Adeline was lowered onto a soft surface, a blanket pulled up and tucked at her chest. Cool, slim fingers brushed back her hair. There was a splash nearby, and water dripping, before a cold rag was laid on her forehead. She shivered and tried to squirm away, but a firm hand held her in place. 

“Your fever is too high, Adeline,” King Laurent said, his voice calm. He swiped the rag gently down the sides of her head. “Open your eyes for me, cherie.” 

Adeline was so shocked by the endearment, one that hadn’t been directed at her since the day her mother died, she listened. 

King Laurent’s voice had sounded calm, but his face told another story. He was frowning slightly, the corner of his lip held between his teeth. His usually immaculate jacket was wrinkled from carrying Adeline to the room. 

“When did you begin to feel unwell?” He asked softly, blue eyes earnest. 

“This morning,” Adeline admitted, her voice a croak around the sore throat. 

King Laurent’s frown deepened. “Why didn’t you stay in bed?” 

“Mistress said...” Adeline began, before trailing off. King Laurent’s eyes had hardened to ice. 

“Ah. And would Mistress Bisset happen to know where these came from?” He asked lightly, picking up her hand closest to him and running a pinky, feather-light, over one of the shiny red switch marks. 

Adeline nodded. 

Laurent’s finger continued to graze the stripes on her palm, never with any pressure. His eyes looked very far away. “We’ll have Paschal make you a salve to take away the sting. He should be here soon, try to get some sleep.” 

Again, Adeline listened. 

000 

The next few days were very...odd. 

Not in the fact that Adeline was ill. She’d been ill before in her young life. It certainly wasn’t fun, but she thought she knew what to expect. 

She had met Paschal already in passing. The tonics he made her drink every few hours were exceptionally disgusting, but Adeline begrudgingly admitted to herself by the third day that they seemed to help. 

Ione hovered, changed her sheets, brought her soups from the kitchens. She took Adeline to the baths and helped her wash away the sweat and sick. 

Jord stood at the door always, back straight and unflinching. He was a calming presence. 

They were all very kind and helpful, but not odd. No, the very odd part of her days was Laurent. 

He just never left. 

Sometimes, Adeline would wake to find the king asleep in a chair beside her bed. Sometimes, she’d see him on the other side of the room, looking over documents at his desk. Sometimes, when she felt especially ill and bored, Laurent would sit next to her in the bed and read aloud. 

“Mistress told me this book was too childish. She wouldn’t let me read it,” Adeline rasped one evening, looking up at Laurent beside her, book in one hand, the other resting on the pillows stacked tall behind her. 

Laurent rolled his eyes. “Mistress Bisset is an imbecile. She won’t be your teacher any longer.” 

A week ago, the news would have had her cheering, shouting and jumping for joy. Instead, Adeline was rather shocked when her eyes filled with tears. She looked away to hide them as they fell. She could feel Laurent turn toward her, his calculating gaze on the back of her head. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. Long, thin fingers grabbed her chin, turned her head back toward Laurent. He frowned, and lifted up a thumb to wipe the tears away. 

“Don’t thank me, Adeline. I’m sorry.” Laurent sighed. “I have been a rather poor excuse for family to you up to this point. Your father would be very angry with me.” 

“He would?” Adeline asked softly, “Even though—I am just a bastard.” 

Laurent settled his hands on Adeline’s shoulders and looked her hard in the eye. They had the same eyes, she suddenly realized. She and Laurent. She wondered if her father had them, too. “Auguste would have loved you more than everything in the world. Do not ever doubt that.” 

Then he released her and turned back to the story. But, instead of resting on the pillows behind Adeline, Laurent’s hand began brushing through her curls. And, instead of sitting up against the pillows, Adeline laid her head on Laurent’s shoulder. A strand of golden hair fell between their heads; Adeline wasn’t sure to which of them it belonged. 

000 

“Can we do this outside?” Adeline asked a few days later, the warm rays of sunshine positively mocking her as they streamed in the window. Laurent shut the book in his lap and looked down at her, his face impassive. 

“Please? I feel much, much better,” Adeline added, eyes wide, lips a bit pouted. 

“Ah, so this is the infamous expression that has brought the great Damianos of Akielos to his knees,” Laurent said wryly. He was smiling, though. Adeline liked him best when he smiled. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Laurent laughed. 

Correction: Adeline like Laurent best when he laughed. 

He looked toward the door before leaning toward the foot of the bed and grasping a throw, which he wrapped around her like a shawl. 

“We’ll go sit on the balcony for a while. Do not tell Ione or Paschal, they may well have me murdered if you fall ill again.” 

“That’s not true,” Adeline said, as she wrapped her arms around Laurent’s neck and he carried her on his back to the nearby balcony. “You’re a king, you can’t be murdered."

"Oh?"

"It would be an assassination.” 

Laurent laughed so hard he snorted like a pig. 

000 

Laurent and Adeline spent the rest of afternoon on the balcony, sitting together on one of the chaises and finishing their story. Adeline was curled up under her blanket like a cat. Laurent had an arm around her, idly scratching up and down her back as he read. 

_“’And now, here is my secret,’”_ Laurent read, _“’A very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can rightly see. What is essential is invisible to the eye.’”_

“That’s true,” Adeline whispered. 

“It is,” Laurent agreed, before sitting up a bit and raising his voice. “You know, it is rather unbecoming of you to hide in doorways and brood in shadows. You’re welcome to join us, Damianos.” 

Laurent groaned as Adeline kneed him in the spleen, scrambling up to see for herself. 

“Damen, you’re back!” Adeline yelped, jumping toward him. Damen caught her, just as she knew he would. “I’ve missed you.” 

Damen hugged her close, before reaching up a hand to feel her forehead. “I have missed you, as well. I’m sorry to hear you were ill. Are you feeling better now?” 

“Yes. Paschal’s tonics are disgusting, but they did help. And Laurent read me stories so I wasn’t bored.” 

“Well, that was kind of him,” Damen said, his eyebrows raised. He took a seat on the chaise next to Laurent and sat Adeline on his knee. 

“Hello, husband,” Laurent said quietly. Damen leaned forward and kissed him. “Did you miss me, too?” 

Damen pulled away, chuckling. “I always miss you. You know that.” 

“Do you want to read with us, Damen?” Adeline asked, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“But, of course,” he said with a smile, scooting closer to Laurent. Laurent smirked before turning back to the book. 

_“’What is essential is invisible to the eye’ the little prince repeated, so as to be sure to remember. ‘It is the time,”_ Laurent stopped abruptly, and cleared his throat, swallowing thickly. _“’It is the time you lavished on your rose which makes your rose so important.’”_ Laurent stopped again. 

_“’It is the time that I lavished on my rose...’ the little prince repeats, so as to be sure to remember.”_ Damen continued softly. _“’Men have forgotten this basic truth,’ said the fox. ‘But you must not forget it. For what you have tamed, you become responsible forever. You are responsible for your rose....’”_

_“’I am responsible for my rose,’”_ Laurent read, his voice clear, _“the little prince repeated, so as to be sure to remember.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me SUCH A LONG TIME. I knew I wanted to write it, but actually writing Laurent's POV was like pulling teeth. Never again. Anyway, here it is, I'm done staring at this. I really hope you like it.

“I’ve found you an heir.” Laurent could not help but admire Vannes’ casual, almost bored delivery of the news. 

Damen leaned forward and choked on his wine. “Who? Where?” 

Who and where, indeed. Vannes’ spies in Vask had informed them Kashel’s beautiful, healthy twin girls. Jokaste was, as far as any of them knew, hiding her son away in Patras. Their two greatest leads were dead ends, and heirs were certainly not forthcoming from any...natural means. 

“Mellos,” Vannes replied calmly. “A small town by the sea called Edessa.” 

Damen frowned. He frowned often when the topic of heirs came about. Laurent supposed it made him uncomfortable, thinking about the lasting consequences of long-forgotten affairs. 

It was certainly not Laurent’s choice conversation, either. 

But their joint kingdoms needed stability. And stability meant marriage and peace and royal children. It meant hope for the future. 

It meant an heir. 

(And, if one could be found, a spare. Laurent was living proof of that unfortunate necessity.) 

“I have never been to Edessa before,” Damen said, his frown deepening. 

Vannes pursed her lips. “The child is a girl. She is eight years old, currently living in the local orphanage after the death of her mother last year. One of my operatives recovered a letter the girl’s mother wrote on her deathbed, revealing her parentage.” 

“Her name?” Laurent asked. 

“Adeline.” Laurent tilted his head. 

Damen’s eyes squinted in confusion. “That sounds Veretian.” 

Vannes breathed deeply. “If the letter is to be believed, she is Prince Auguste’s daughter.” 

000 

“Impossible.” Laurent muttered, still pacing before the fire. Damen was on the sofa behind him, spread languidly, his dark eyes thoughtful as he watched. “Auguste would never--,” 

“You told me yourself your brother preferred the company of women. Do you remember this--,” Damen looked down at the parchment before him, lying on the low table, “--Selene?” 

Laurent ran an agitated had through his hair. “She was my music teacher. Her family is noble; they hold some land in the south. Her parents sent her to court when she was of age to find a husband. Mother heard her sing once at a feast and asked her to teach me.” 

“I did not know you could sing.” Laurent finally stopped his pacing to glare down at Damen. 

“I am proficient at many things. That is beside the point right now. The point is--,” 

“The point is, we may have found a viable heir to our throne. An heir with your blood, the daughter of your beloved brother, who was raised in Akielos_,” _Damen said emphatically, slowly standing and resting his large hands on Laurent’s shoulders. “This is a blessing, Laurent. She is a blessing.” 

Laurent found himself unable to meet Damen’s eyes. 

“If she truly is Auguste’s, she is a bastard.” 

“Not if we make her legitimate.” 

Laurent fell to the couch and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. “He never told me. I thought...I thought we knew everything about one another, he certainly knew everything about me, and he...they didn’t even like each other!” Laurent snapped. “He always came in to interrupt my music lessons to tease her, and Selene just complained and complained, said what a rude brute he was, always flipping his hair about and...” Laurent trailed off and finally uncovered his eyes. 

Damen was staring at him, a sad, soft smile on his face. 

“They were probably desperately in love, weren’t they?” 

Damen just shrugged. 

000 

Laurent had been most worried that it was all a clever-ruse. Some unknown political ally trying to pull the wool over their eyes using a sweet child, who was not truly as young or innocent as she seemed. Someone trained to play the part, to worm her way in and slit their throats the first chance she had. 

Laurent turned at the creaking of the door, heard Damen’s soft, shocked intake of breath, then looked down upon the little ghost. 

It was immediately apparent the letter was not a lie. It had been sent by Selene. She had been telling the truth. 

And, somehow, that made everything much, much worse. 

000 

“Bow to the Exalteds, Adeline,” the matron said softly, pushing the little girl further into the makeshift office. 

There was a portrait in the main gallery at Arles, a large one, with Maman sitting primly on a golden chair, Father standing behind her, hand on her shoulder, both of them looking strong and proud and regal in their finery. 

Auguste had only been six or seven years old when the portrait was commissioned, a few years still before Laurent was even a thought. His brother was immortalized standing next to their mother, his hair golden and past his shoulders. His face was positively cherubic, round with a happy flush in the apples of his cheeks. The artist even managed to capture the hint of a smile on Auguste’s lips. In the portrait, he was holding Maman’s hand. 

The picture was painted when Auguste was still a tiny child, nothing like the tall, muscled teenager Laurent knew. Laurent always found it odd, looking at it as a child himself, the reminder that his seemingly indomitable brother had once been so precious and small. 

It had been more than a year since Laurent had seen that particular portrait. Yet, as he looked down at the girl, in her loose white dress, dirty at the knees, with her grubby hands, golden curls tumbling down her back from the hasty ribbon tied at the nape of her neck, Laurent knew this child could stand beside the painting and be mistaken for Auguste’s twin. 

The girl bowed clumsily at the matron’s urging, before straightening and looking Laurent in the eye. 

Eyes like the sky on a clear winter’s morning. 

Auguste’s eyes. 

“Why are you here?” she asked immediately. 

“Adeline--,” the matron reprimanded, sounding resigned. 

“No, I want to know. Why do they want to see me? What’s going on? Why--,” 

“It’s fine, ma’am,” Damen said calmly to the matron. “It’s understandable. We--,” 

“What do you know of your father?” Laurent cut, and the girl’s blue eyes widened. 

“Maman didn’t tell me much,” she admitted, her hand reaching for the neckline of her dress before pulling away suddenly. Then she twisted her hands nervously at her waist. “Did you know him?” 

Laurent wanted, inexplicably, to laugh. He thought he’d know everything there was to know about Auguste Francis Louis Alexandre, Crown Prince of Vere. He thought he’d known his brother better than anyone else in the world. Laurent had trusted Auguste with his life, his dreams, his darkest secrets, and always assumed the efforts were returned in kind. 

Then came her. 

000 

“Damianos-Exalted--,” the girl began hesitantly at dinner that night, but Damen quickly interrupted her. 

“Oh, you—Adeline you need not—when we’re in private company, call me Damen,” he finally said. The girl’s eyes grew wide, mouth open in shock as though she had just been given permission to murder her greatest foe without consequence. 

She very nearly had it, Laurent could not help but think, recognizing the small smile on Damen’s lips as he watched her, the growing fondness in his dark eyes. 

Both gazes then turned to Laurent, as he well knew they would. 

The girl, uncomfortable with the long silence, and no doubt emboldened by Damen’s obvious affection, then looked up at Laurent and asked, “Shall I call you Uncle?” 

When the roaring faded from Laurent’s ears and his breaths restarted in a normal pattern, Laurent pointedly avoided Damen’s face and stared at the girl, right in her blue, blue eyes. 

“No, I don’t think you shall.” 

000 

They brought her back to Marlas. They hired a nurse, hired a teacher, set up a guard to watch over the girl. 

Within a week, she had nearly the whole palace wrapped around her little finger. Including Damen. 

Especially Damen. 

“Adeline enjoys climbing trees.” 

“Adeline gets an odd rash when she eats strawberries, we must tell the cooks to stop using strawberries.” 

“Adeline likes visiting the stables, we should think about getting her a horse of her own.” 

“Adeline has such a lovely voice, I cannot wait for you to hear her sing.” 

“Adeline does not like her teacher.” 

“That’s probably a good thing,” Laurent snapped back, rolling his eyes. “I imagine it means Mistress Bisset has not yet succumbed to the ridiculous whims and fancies of an eight-year-old, and said eight-year-old is actually learning something constructive. 

Damen sighed. “Perhaps. But Mistress Bisset has never impressed me as very good-hearted.” 

Laurent rolled his eyes again. “She doesn’t need to be coddled. She needs to be taught. Mistress Bisset is highly reputable, she’s been a governess for many noble families in Arles. This is the education she needs if she truly is to be our heir, especially with her current lack of knowledge of Vere and Veretian culture.” 

“If you say so,” Damen finally responded. He didn’t speak again until they both finished getting ready for bed. 

“You should spend more time with Adeline,” Damen whispered into the dark, his face turned to Laurent as they lay together in bed. The moon cast a sliver of light through the window that cut across his right eye. “She is worried you do not like her.” 

Laurent had actually overheard that particular conversation. She had tearfully asked Damen why the king hated her so much, out in the garden that afternoon as the two took their daily walk. 

“Yes.” Laurent said simply, before turning over and facing away from Damen. 

000 

“What is your impression of the princess’s progress thus far?” Laurent asked with a practiced nonchalance, feigning interest in the documents in his hand as he stared down the severe-looking woman across the desk from him. 

Mistress Bisset let out the hyperbolic sigh of those itching to share their suffering. “Unfortunately, very poor, Your Majesty. I do my best, but the princess continues to be obstinate and uncooperative to the curriculum. Due surely, in part, to her rather...unusual upbringing.” 

Laurent raised an eyebrow. Mistress Bisset’s tone made it apparent ‘unusual’ could be interchanged with any number of rather unsavory adjectives. 

“There is another method I would like to try. It’s been shown to obtain results in even my most unruly students.” 

“And it is--?” 

“Your Majesty?” Jord interrupted quietly, entering the room. “Kairos Nikandros has arrived.” 

Laurent made a motion with his hand, silently beckoning him forward before looking back down at Mistress Bisset. “Madam, I apologize for the interruption, but I must speak with the kairos. Do whatever you deem necessary to keep the princess in line.” 

Mistress Bisset smiled. It did not make her face any more attractive. 

Nikandros entered the room as the teacher left, giving the woman a questioning glance before turning his dark eyes to Laurent. 

“The princess’s governess.” Laurent said in answer. Nikandros shrugged and took the recently vacated seat before Laurent’s desk. 

“You wished to see me, Your Majesty?” 

“Yes. I wanted to get your thoughts on naming the princess our heir.” 

“I did not realize it was still up for discussion. Damen seems as though he’s already planning her presentation at the Kingsmeet.” 

“Damen thinks too much with his heart, and not enough with his head.” 

Nikandros smirked. “I have been telling him that much longer than you, Majesty.” 

“Has he ever listened?” 

“We would not be here today if he did.” 

Laurent sighed. “Truly Nikandros, how do you think the people of Akielos will react? I worry for the Veretians reaction, I would be a fool if I did not. The princess is a bastard, and the resentment and prejudice for those of that distinction runs deeply in our culture.” 

Nikandros clasped his hands on the desk and leaned forward. 

“Forge a license if you must, say they eloped before Auguste left for the front. There is no one left alive to question such a thing. There is no one who will _want_ to question such a thing. Even Akielons are familiar with the adoration Vere held for your brother. He is a great hero of your country, and soon enough he will be a great legend. Vere will accept his daughter as an heir. And Akielos will easily accept a child of her own as their next queen.” 

“You don’t think they’d rather have a king?” 

Nikandros frowned, eyes thoughtful. “Some will want a king. But our queens have a history of long and prosperous reigns. Akielos will always honor a strong queen.” 

“What if she’s not strong?” Nikandros’ frown deepened. 

“It is your job and Damen’s to ensure that she is.” 

Laurent steepled his fingers under his chin and closed his eyes, sighing deeply. Nikandros unexpectedly let out a soft chuckle, and Laurent opened his eyes. 

“I think you need not worry so much, Laurent. Adeline seems very sweet and clever, and Damen is already prepared to go to war at her command.” Nikandros laughed again. “She reminds me much of you.” 

“Thank you, Nikandros. I shall see you at the feast,” Laurent said, standing abruptly and stalking out of his study before Nikandros could say another word. 

000 

When Laurent woke the next morning, Damen was already gone. He sighed and rubbed a cold hand down his face before turning over and burying his face in the pillows. Laurent finally rose from bed when the sun’s streaks hit his eyes. He dressed quickly and broke his fast alone. As he made his way to the library, Laurent heard the argument. 

“You do not have the authority--” 

“The Exalted excused the princess from her lessons today, not me. I cannot say that I do not approve, though. I wish I had. You work that child to the bone, show her no kindness, let her have no joy in life--,” 

“She doesn’t need joy, she needs discipline. And I do not have to stand here and take this from the likes of you.” Mistress Bisset harrumphed, before presumably stalking down the corridor. Laurent turned the corner to see Ione alone, her breath heaving. 

“Your Majesty,” Ione yelped as Laurent approached, falling into a hasty curtsy. He bid her rise. 

“King Damianos excused the princess from her lessons today?” he asked, face carefully blank. 

Ione bit her lip. “Yes, Majesty. He took the princess with him to the training yard this morning.” 

“I see.” Laurent turned around, and made to walk back the way he came. Toward the training yard. 

“Majesty?” Ione asked from behind him. Laurent stopped in his tracks. “Let her be a child. It only happens once, and you’ll miss it when it’s over.” 

Laurent continued walking. 

000 

“You are much better at this than I expected,” Laurent heard Damen exclaim as he entered the top of the stands. Damen and the princess were sword fighting in the pit as the soldiers sat in the stands, hollering encouragements at the princess. 

Damen was obviously humoring the girl, but Laurent begrudgingly admitted to himself she had talent. Her footwork was good, her movements simple but quick, her stance balanced. She was wearing an old chiton today, her long hair pulled away from her face in a braid. As she and Damen circled again, Laurent saw the wild grin on her face. 

He did not often see her smile. 

Before Laurent could process the thought, the princess was lunging forward with her sword, as though to plunge it through Damen’s heart. Laurent watched his husband catch the wooden sword between his arm and side before falling dramatically to the ground; he silently hoped Damen gave himself at least one splinter for his theatrics. 

“Damen, get up,” she said with a giggle, dropping her sword and stepping forward. “Damen?” Her voice rose in question when Damen didn’t move. 

“_ Damen- _-,” she gasped out suddenly, falling to her knees, just as Damen popped up with a shout, picking her up and twirling her in circles. 

“That was mean!” she yelped, slapping his shoulder before burying her face in his neck. Damen grinned ruefully. “I thought I hurt you!” 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I couldn’t resist,” Damen said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You have a natural talent, Adeline. Have you ever practiced before?” 

The girl just shrugged, still obviously cross from the trick. “Just with sticks, with boys at the orphanage. I always won. They didn’t like it.” 

Damen laughed. “We’ll have to start working you with the squires, I think. Talent like that shouldn’t be wasted. Anyone who can best me in a fight should be trained.” 

“I did best you, didn’t I? I demand a boon.” 

“And what shall you have of me?” Damen asked, voice suddenly soft. 

“Delpha, at least,” she said with a hum. She and Damen continued speaking after, but Laurent couldn’t make them out over the roaring in his ears. 

It was a saying in Akielos, to ask for Delpha, and a common one like that. It was to ask for the impossible, like having a lover lasso you the moon, like a child asking his mother to banish the monsters from the dark. _ Bring me Delpha _. It was to ask for the world. 

Bring me Delpha. The request that had shattered Laurent’s world. 

The girl looked up from Damen’s shoulder and met Laurent’s gaze across the stands. 

He’d never seen a smile disappear from a child’s face so quickly. 

000 

“Laurent, would you like to join me and Adeline on a ride?” Damen asked, sunny grin on his face as he walked into the library. 

Laurent crossed his legs and artfully settled his book on the arm of his chair. “She should be in her lessons, Damianos. Mistress Bisset has told me she’s very behind.” 

“On her needlework?” Damen scoffed, smile falling from his face. “Her silly classes on decorum and manners and dancing? She’s barely been with us two months, Laurent, give her a break. Let her be a child.” 

“Yes, we barely know her, and you are ready to leave her our kingdom!” Laurent shouted, standing up from his armchair. “You’re ready to give this girl everything we’ve built, yet you won’t enforce the rules, give her the tools necessary. You spoil her--,” 

“She’s eight years old, and she’s lived a hard life. She deserves to be spoiled,” Damen cut. He stared down at Laurent as though he was seeing him for the first time. 

“You’re being ridiculous.” Because he was. Damianos was being completely ridiculous, brainwashed by a little girl with her sweet smile and her big blue eyes and honey voice. 

“And you’re being cruel.” Damen said sharply, disgust evident. “She’s your family, Laurent, the last piece of your brother--,” 

“Don’t you dare.” Laurent responded darkly. “You of all people don’t get to mention him.” 

“Laurent--,” 

“Is that what this is?” Laurent continued. He felt like he was going to vomit. “Some kind of penance for murdering Auguste? Be kind to his daughter to calm your conscience?” 

Damen huffed and rolled his eyes. “I enjoy Adeline’s company. I find her to be a kind, sweet and engaging child, as do many others. You would know that if you made any effort at all.” 

Laurent had made effort. He had found her teacher, a nurse. He scheduled her guards. He was the person evaluating the reactions of the high and low born alike, gauging their response to possibly naming this girl as their heir. He had invited the council members from Arles to introduce them to Auguste’s secret bastard lovechild. 

He was the only person in the castle taking this cataclysm seriously. 

“Her teacher finds her uncooperative and unintelligent,” Laurent added, and Damen rolled his eyes again. 

“Her teacher is a witch who is punishing her for the fact of her birth. Just like you. It makes me sick.” Damen shook his head in revulsion before stomping to the door. He slammed it open and immediately stopped in his tracks. 

“I--um,” a young, trembling voice exclaimed. 

The princess was at the door, a purple cloak haphazardly slung around her shoulders. Tears made her blue eyes bright. 

“I’m very tired, so I think—we don’t have to go riding today. I don’t want to. It’s--,” Then she turned and ran, the slap of her sandals echoing down the corridor. 

“Adeline!” Damen shouted desperately, making to follow. Laurent reached forward and grabbed his arm. 

“What?” Damen growled, attempting to throw off his hand, but Laurent just gripped harder. He opened his mouth to respond, but words defied him. 

“That’s what I thought,” Damen said softly, before breaking Laurent’s grip and running away. 

000 

No one could locate the princess. A frantic Damen ordered the servants to disband their chores and hunt the grounds. Search parties were sent in all directions from the castle. Damen himself ran to the stables to join the scouts. 

Laurent went to the courtyard and watched her quickly and expertly scale a large oak tree, her purple cloak flapping in the wind. He sat, his back to the castle wall, watching the girl settle in the tallest branch that would hold her weight, looking in the distance and wiping the tears off her cheeks, obviously deep in thought. 

He sat, and he watched her. And, hours later, when the sky finally turned dark and the wind was biting, Laurent hid around the corner and watched with bated breath as she carefully made her way safely down the oak tree. 

000 

“Adeline’s back,” Damen breathed out, running a tired hand down his face as he finally entered their rooms. “She’s asleep now.” 

“I know.” Laurent flicked a page in his book, face carefully disinterested. “She was in the oak tree in the courtyard.” 

“How--,” Damen shook his head then, and fell gracelessly to the sofa before Laurent. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? We’ve been searching for hours.” 

Laurent turned another page before finally looking up. “I didn’t want to leave. I was afraid she would fall.” 

He looked back down on his book. He could feel Damen’s eyes, hot on his neck. 

“How did you know Adeline would be there?” 

_ Because it’s what I would’ve done. It’s what I did. _

The words were on the tip of Laurent’s tongue, nearly out of his mouth when Lazar bounded into the room, told them breathlessly of the messenger from Ravenel the scouts sent East had intercepted. 

There was an uprising at the fort. Dissidents to be subdued. 

“I should go,” Damen said finally, pinching his nose between his fingers. “The council from Arles will be here soon, and they’ll want to meet with you first. Just...” Damen sighed heavily. “Try to be kind.” He looked up and met Laurent’s eyes, his own unyielding. “Please, be kind to her, Laurent. We’re all she has. Please...” He begged, grabbing Laurent’s wrist. 

Laurent’s eyes felt hot. He slipped his hand down, grabbing Damen’s own. 

“Go,” he finally said, “We will be fine. I promise. Just...” Laurent trailed off. Damen gripped his hand tightly before letting go, and reached up both hands to cup Laurent’s face. He leaned forward until his forehead met Laurent’s. 

“I do not know where your head has been lately,” Damen said softly. Laurent closed his eyes. “I know this is difficult. I know it’s unexpected. But I need you to come back, my love. Please,” Damen’s voice caught, “Come back.” 

Damen kissed his forehead. By the time Laurent opened his eyes, he was gone. 

000 

Laurent spent the next day and a half wishing he was not too old to climb a tree and hide from the world. He buried himself in paperwork, rode his horse, trained ruthlessly with the guard. Anything and everything to make his body tired enough to ignore his racing thoughts and sleep. 

Still, he did not sleep much. And when he did sleep, he dreamed. 

000 

_ “I love you, Selene.” Laurent is early for his singing lesson. He’s about to open the door of the music room when Auguste’s __gentle __whisper reaches his ears. _

_ “You promised me,” Selene answers softly, voice thick. Laurent opens the door a crack, just enough to see without letting the hinges creak. She and Auguste are sitting next to each other on the piano bench, their hands linked. “You said you wouldn’t say it. You’re making this unbearable, Auguste.” _

_ “But I do,” August whispers. He reaches up his free hand to cup Selene’s cheek. “I love you__. __I always will.” _

_ Selene turns her head away from his hand. “It won’t work. It can’t, you’re not being practical. You’ll be married off to some __Patran __princess, maybe an __Akielon __cousin if one can be found--,” _

_ “No.” Auguste says firmly. His thumb runs lightly up and down her cheek, before reaching up to drag an auburn curl away from her face. Selene covers his hand with her own and looks up into his eyes. _

_ “I don’t regret what we did,” She says softly. “I don’t at all. But you do not owe me anything because of it, Auguste. It __is __time for us to part.” Selene’s voice breaks. Auguste tugs her into his arms, buries his face in her wild red hair. _

_ “We could run away,” Auguste croaks, and Selene laughs wetly. “I'__m being serious. We’ll go south, live by the sea. Nobody would ever search for us there. We could be farmers, or merchants, maybe even troubadours. No one could tell us what to do, how to live our lives. And we’d have babies--,” Auguste’s voice breaks this time. _

_ “You would leave your brother all alone?” Selene asks, shock evident. _

_ Auguste scoffs, “Laurent will come with us obviously.” Selene finally smiles. _

_ Then, she pulls back and cups Auguste’s face in both her hands. Her green eyes are bright with tears. “In another life, _ _ perhaps__,” she sighs. “In this one, you are a prince about to go to war. And I--,” both of their eyes glance at the new diamond on Selene’s left hand. “I shall hold our memories close to my heart.” _

_ Auguste tugs at his neck then, pull__s __back his shirt before dragging a long chain up and around his head. Laurent nearly gasps and gives himself away when he recognizes the silver locket. _

_ “It was my mother’s,” Auguste whispers, placing it around Selene’s neck. “Father gave it to her when I was born. Could you--,” _

_ “I’ll never take it off.” _

_ Auguste kisses her then, long and deeply. Laurent steps back __to __ensure nobody is coming down the hall. _

_ Laurent returns to the crack in the door __after a few moments, once he’s sure there is no one else eavesdropping__, __and __watches Selene lean her forehead against his brother’s. Both of their eyes are closed; the sunset through the window makes Auguste’s hair shine like gold, Selene’s a lovely copper. They look resplendent together, their fine silks and jewelry glittering in the sunlight. It’s an ethereal sight, one Laurent knows he will never forget. _

_ Doomed loved. Laurent can’t understand why people wish to write stories about such a horrible thing. All he sees is a tragedy, playing out before his very eyes. _

000 

Laurent woke with tears in his eyes and tried to tell himself it was just a dream, just a fantasy his mind had conjured to make sense of this new reality he found himself living. 

But the more he thought on the dream, the more Laurent seemed to remember. He remembered Selene’s pretty green dress, the smell of changing leaves wafting through the open window. He remembered her choked sobs, the shiny tears dripping down Auguste’s cheeks. 

He remembered being shocked and confused, a bit horrified at the revelation. His brother, having relations with a woman he was not to marry? It was unspeakable, unthinkable-- 

\--So, Laurent chose not to think about it. Especially after Auguste died. 

Auguste died a tragic hero, a martyr to his crown and country. He was, and would always remain in the memories of all of Vere, perfect. 

It was what he had earned. It was what Laurent’s wonderful, beautiful and kind brother deserved. 

And so, Laurent forgot. 

000 

Laurent was sitting at his desk, pinching his nose in an attempt to stave off an inevitable headache when Mistress Bisset was announced. 

“How is the princess today?” Laurent asked, after the teacher had made the proper obeisance and taken her seat. 

“Not well, Your Majesty,” Mistress Bisset said with a huff. “Not well at all. Her worst performance to date, I should say.” 

Laurent raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps she misses the King.” 

The woman very nearly rolled her eyes. “She is old enough to know better. She is old enough to behave better. The princess’s eyes just strayed to the window all morning long, I could hold her attention hardly longer than five minutes--,” 

“Have you considered, Mistress, that the fault could lie with your style of teaching?” Mistress Bisset was shocked into silence. She sat back for a moment, gathering herself before continuing. 

“I fear the princess’s nurse is putting sour thoughts in the girl’s head.” 

“What kind of sour thoughts?” 

“Of you and I. Of Vere, our customs and traditions. Most especially of my lessons. Today, Ione was prepared to allow the princess to stay in bed, claiming illness so soon after she took an unwarranted day off. And the girl had the nerve to talk back to me! Me, her teacher and her--,” 

Laurent held up a hand, halting her. “The princess is ill?” 

This time, the woman did roll her beady eyes. “So she and the nurse claim. The princess seemed of fine health today--,” 

“You just said she had her worst performance to date. That she was unfocused and rude and you were unable to hold her attention.” Laurent stood then, and hastened for the door, unwilling to spare even a backward glance at the teacher still seated in the study. 

“Where is she?” Laurent asked the guard stationed outside. 

“She?” 

Laurent breathed heavily. “We’re in a castle, to which ‘she’ did you think I would be referring?” 

“The princess is in her quarters, Your Majesty, last I heard,” the other guard chimed in. Laurent nodded, before very nearly running away. 

000 

“The princess wanted to take a nap after her lessons,” the guards at her door informed him, before gently opening the door in the hopes of quieting the creaking. Laurent entered the room slowly, footsteps light, searching the half-lit room for his wayward niece. 

She wasn’t in any of the chairs or chaises before the fireplace, she wasn’t at her vanity or in her dressing room as far as he could hear. The sheets on her bed were unmade and rumpled, as though the occupant had left in a hurry. 

Laurent walked toward the bed, frowning at the obvious smell of sick that greeted him. “Adeline?” he finally called out. 

No response. 

Heart racing in his chest, Laurent turned to the other side of the bed, and found the child curled up in a tiny ball, tears trailing down her cheeks. “What are you--?” he muttered, before shaking his head and rushing to her side. Gently, he turned her over and propped her upright, before resting his palm across her forehead. 

She was burning. 

“Fuck.” 

000 

“How bad is this, Paschal?” Laurent asked the physician, unable to tear his eyes away from the tiny child in their bed, shivering and writhing as Ione bathed her head with a cool cloth. “Do I—should I be calling Damen back?” The words nearly catch in his throat. 

Paschal shook his head. “Currently, it’s just a fever. I suspect the princess is a bit overworked and stressed both physically and emotionally, Your Majesty. It’s been a turbulent time for her, something like this was bound to happen. She needs rest and fluids. As long as she continues to receive those and we watch her, all should be well.” 

“And, her hands--,” 

“I applied the salve. We’ll continue to do so until they don’t cause her any pain. There’s no reason she should have scars.” 

Laurent let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.” 

A servant entered the bedroom behind them, knocked and bowed before declaring, “We’ve made up the guest bedroom down the hall for you, Your Majesty--,” 

“No,” Laurent said immediately, to the shock of nearly all present. “No, thank you, I’ll be staying here.” 

Paschal looked puzzled. “I plan on staying tonight, Your Majesty, and I am sure Ione does as well--,” 

“Yes, sir,” Ione called from the princess’s side. She, too, looked confused. 

“I know, I just--,” Laurent faltered, his eyes caught on the long, golden curls fanning the pillow underneath Adeline’s head. “I wish to stay.” 

“I think,” Ione began slowly, a small upturn at the corner of her lips, “There’s a rather large pile of books on the princess’s nightstand. She may enjoy reading when she wakes. Perhaps his Majesty would fetch them?” 

The servant behind them gasped loudly, appalled by a nurse so blatantly giving orders to her king. 

Laurent just smiled, for the first time in what felt like days, and did as she bid. 

000 

“Where am I?” Laurent looked up from the book in his lap at the tiny voice. Adeline’s blue eyes were open, red and crusty from sleep, but still open and confused. 

And frightened. Very frightened. 

“Our room—mine and Damen’s. You, you r bed--,” 

“Oh,” Adeline whispered, face flushing as she no doubt remembered getting sick. “I’m sorry.” 

Laurent frowned. “Don’t be sorry. It was my idea. We’ll move you back when you’re feeling better.” 

Adeline tilted her head. “Alright,” she croaked. Wordlessly, Laurent rose and poured her a glass of water from the nearby pitcher. He walked back and used his free hand to help fluff the pillows behind Adeline’s head as she sat up. She reached a shaking hand to take the glass, drinking deeply. 

“Not too fast,” he warned quietly. “Little sips for now.” 

Adeline handed the glass back and tilted her head again as she bit her lip. “Where’s Ione?” 

Laurent nodded his head to the chaise in the corner, one he’d had the servants drag in from the sitting room. “She was up most of the night. I told her I could take over for a bit. Do you want me to--?” 

“No, let her sleep,” Adeline whispered, a small smile on her face as she looked at the sleeping nurse. 

“How are you feeling?” Laurent cleared his throat after the short pause to ask. “Shall I go fetch Paschal?” 

Adeline shrugged a bit. “No, I just want to sleep, Your Majesty.” 

Laurent grimaced. 

“You’re allowed to call me Laurent, Adeline.” 

Her eyes were red and tired, face flushed with fever. Her hair straggled like a golden rat’s nest across the pillows. 

But she smiled. She smiled at him, bright and wide and sunny and lovely, and Laurent would be damned not to admit it was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen. 

000 

Laurent woke to the awful sounds of retching. He rose from the chaise in the corner and rubbed the blurriness out of his eyes to see Ione sitting at Adeline’s beside holding a bowl as the princess vomited. 

“Bleh,” Adeline said with a groan, spitting bile as Ione patted her back. 

“Just get it all out now, love,” Ione said softly. Laurent walked over to the vanity and picked up a brush and ribbon. 

When Adeline was finished and Ione left to clean the bowl, Laurent took up her post on the edge of the bed. “Let’s get all this hair out of the way.” He said before sitting her up and turning her sideways so he could brush through the long waves and knots. 

When he finished brushing, Laurent carefully separated the hair into three sections and plaited it artfully down Adeline’s back. He tied it off with a ribbon, and ran one hand up and down the long braid checking for bumps before declaring it finished. 

“Where did you learn that?” Adeline asked, after she’d checked the braid herself with her hands, leaning back into the pillows. 

Laurent shrugged, busying himself with putting away the brush and pouring her another glass of water. “Auguste always wore his hair long. He let me braid it sometimes.” 

Adeline’s eyes widened. “He did?” 

Laurent grinned a bit at her awed tone. “Oh yes. Auguste was a very good person, but if he could be called vain about anything, it was his hair. He was a bit obsessed with it, to be perfectly honest, but the rest of the kingdom was, too, so nobody much cared. Why do you think they called him the Sun Prince?” 

“So, he had...I have hair like him?” The longing in her voice nearly broke Laurent’s heart. 

“Yes. Well, you have more curls and waves then Auguste did, you got that from Selene. But the color—that's from Auguste.” 

Adeline pulled the long braid over her shoulder and looked down, inspecting it carefully. “It’s the same color as yours, too.” 

“Yes, I suppose it is.” 

000 

“What are you doing?” Adeline was standing in the doorway, staring at Laurent at his desk. She was wearing a nightgown, with a dressing gown over the top, her hair wet down her back. Her feet were bare. 

Laurent raised he eyebrows at the sight. “You should be in bed.” 

Adeline shrugged and walked over to his chair, looking over his shoulder at the papers spread across his desk. “I’m not tired. What are you doing?” 

Laurent, worried for her bare feet on the cold stone, plucked Adeline up and sat her on his lap. “Being a king. It involves lots of paperwork.” 

Adeline leaned forward, eyes running frantically across the papers spread on his desktop. “Will you explain it to me?” 

Laurent chuckled a bit. “It’s rather boring, Adeline.” 

She just shrugged again. “I’m already very bored, and I like to learn. Explain it to me.” 

So, Laurent spent the next hour explaining the current disputes between Patras and Vask over the iron mines in the mountains. The rise in taxes, the problems with the trade routes. The impacts to Akielos and Vere if the problems weren’t resolved. 

“It’s all a bit like throwing a stone in the water,” Adeline said softly, leaning her head tiredly against Laurent’s shoulder. “There’s one big disruption, but it causes so many ripples. And you,” Adeline yawned, “You have to remember all the ripples. You have to make sure nobody is hurt by the waves.” 

“Yes,” Laurent agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And someday, you will, too.” 

000 

“What has changed?” Damen asked the night he returned. He kissed Laurent’s bare shoulder, his arms wrapped around him from behind. “Why have you--,” 

“Finally gotten my head out of my ass?” Laurent finished wryly, and Damen let out a snort. 

“Yes. That.” 

Laurent turned over and faced Damen, so close their foreheads were nearly touching. “I’ve been focused on the future for so long. Our kingdom, our lives together. And it’s been—wonderful. So wonderful. I didn’t want to think about the past anymore. I didn’t want to be reminded of what I had lost. 

“I suppose I finally realized, Adeline is a reminder of everything I lost. But she’s also the future, our future and that’s--both things, they’re blessings, Damen. She’s a blessing. For once in your life, you were right and I was wrong.” 

Damen was smiling so widely it must have ached, his eyes bright. His hand came up and gently stroked Laurent’s cheek. “Just the once?” 

Laurent laughed. “Only time ever. It shan’t happen ever again, so savor this.” 

Damen flipped himself on top of Laurent then, his hands bracketing Laurent’s head. “Oh, I shall.” 

000 

“What if I do it wrong? Oh, my goodness, I’m going to trip, I’ll make a fool of myself, I’ll--,” 

“Addy,” Laurent said calmly, crouching down in front of her. “It’s just a presentation, ma cherie. You’ll walk up to the altar, Damen will put the crown on your head, say a few words and it’s over.” 

“That quickly?” 

“That quickly,” Laurent promised solemnly. They were standing at the back of the Kingsmeet, the large crowd before them making a narrow aisle for the two of them to soon walk through. Damen stood at the altar already, speaking to Nikandros at his left. A little boy with a silken red pillow on his arms presented the pretty tiara at Damen’s right. 

Adeline was before him, breath heaving, wearing a new purple dress. Her hair was down and long, her golden tresses silky and shiny, pulled back at the top and adorned with pearls. 

She looked like a princess. 

Now, all she was missing was a crown. 

“Big breath in,” Laurent commanded, demonstrating himself until Adeline followed. “And out,” he finished, blowing out his breath in a large gust. “Better?” 

Adeline took another large breath before nodding her head. “Better.” 

Behind the altar, the sound of drums began echoing through the Kingsmeet. A choir began to sing. 

“I believe that’s our cue, Addy.” Laurent rose and straightened his jacket. He stepped out from behind the archway and met Damen’s eyes up the aisle. Damen grinned, and gave them a very indecorous wave when Adeline came into view. 

Lauren heard Adeline audibly gulp beside him. He reached down and grabbed her hand. 

He forgot sometimes, just how young she was. How little. Then, he held her hand, not yet half the size of his own, and remembered all over again. 

“You’ll be with me?” she asked softly. Laurent smiled down at her and winked. Adeline finally smiled back. 

“Every step of the way.” 

000 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts! Your hope and dreams and ambitions are also fair game for the comments, I love anything. Hope you have a great day!
> 
> EDIT: yo, i'm zipadeea on tumblr now. go hmu there if you like :)

**Author's Note:**

> Would love to hear your thoughts on this! Depending on the response, I may consider writing it from Damen and/or Laurent's POV. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Also, I am very aware 'The Little Prince' was published in 1943. Does it really make sense for the time period of this story?? No. Do I care? Also no. It was just too pretty and perfect not to add.


End file.
